


Music Is Like Wings

by stygianCreator (JynX245)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dave is an angel, Forbidden Love, M/M, Misunderstanding, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Really I'm trying but i can't fucking do writing at times, Time Skips, angel - Freeform, really work in progress, there might be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-25 09:37:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21354151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JynX245/pseuds/stygianCreator
Summary: Dave's John's guardian angel. Has been for a while, in fact. It's a little cliche to say he's not allowed to fall in love with John. It's more cliche to say he did.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas (implied), John Egbert/Dave Strider
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. I Got Feathers and Death For My 13th Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a full fanfiction in character with these characters! I'm sorry if there's mistakes, I may have been a bit asleep when I wrote it. It's still work in progress.

Usually, when people think of angels, they don’t think of a milk-white, blonde, lithe teenager in shades.

That’s not the case with John Egbert. The short young man taps his pencil against the desk repetitively, like a metronome, as he stares out the window, wondering when he’ll next see the enigmatic Strider. The last school day, his very last, is dragging on and on, his only thought of how the moonlight glances off the blonde locks of hair that always seem so neatly set in place. Cool, poised, and perfectly put together. His smooth words, deadpan, stoic nature…

As it drags out further and further still, John finds his face on his arm, his glasses slipping as he drifts into sleep, a dream shaping itself around him.

_Even though it’s a dream, he knows the date. December third. It’s just after midnight, just barely classifiable as the third…but it still is. He lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s chilly, the cold air slipping under his window despite it being firmly closed, and he shivers in his flannels. Grumbling, he stands, heading over to close it properly._

_Tugging on the handle, he flings it open, briefly dousing himself in cold air before preparing to slam it shut firmly- only to freeze and stare at something bizarre. _

_Something he couldn’t take his eyes off of, for some unknown reason._

_He was shivering and the air was absolutely frigid, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the glowing orb in the night air as it slowly stretches out to form limbs- six limbs- and a body. Soon, a pair of beautiful scarlet eyes open amidst the tendrils of white light, and it solidifies into a tall boy who looks to be in his early teens, his slender frame wrapped snugly in…a band shirt?...with red sleeves and a white torso, and jeans. This wouldn’t be a fact of any note, if it weren’t for the two long wings, their cream feathers tinged ever so slightly with orange, that extend from his back, wreathing him in an ethereal light._

_A light breeze stirs his golden locks, and he looks up at the boy frozen in his window, staring down at him in shock. He opens his mouth as though to say something majestic and divine, befitting of an angel, but the first thing he says upon being created into this world is,_

_“Fuck.”_

_John snaps from his trance, and in panic does the only thing he can think to, and shouts,_

_“Hey!! Bird boy! What the hell are you doing outside in the snow??”_

_The angel looks up at him with a wry smirk, and flaps up to be level with the window, bowing in a borderline mocking manner._

_“Well, I’d love to explain, if you’d grant me permission to enter your dwelling, o dear mortal,”_

_He quips, and John, suddenly realizing the angel’s actually shivering much like he himself is, says reluctantly,_

_“You can come in, I guess.”_

_He stands back, and watches the winged boy hop through the window, shutting it behind himself._

_“Well, I suppose it’s time to honor my vow. My name is Dave, and I am, clearly, a guardian angel. However, you were one hundred percent NOT supposed to see me so now I guess I’m fucked. All part of the master plan though.”_

_John tilts his head, and reaches out to brush his hand over Dave’s wing instinctively- the other catches his hand in a cool, delicate (and yet scarily strong) grip._

_“Ah- I understand you’re curious man, but if you go and start feeling up my wings, you might have a little, uh, trouble.”_

_“What kind of trouble?”_

_John asks, staring first at the glowing wings, and then at Dave’s bewitching eyes. A smooth smirk curves his lips as the mortal boy continues to stare. He explains casually,_

_“Well, I learnt it the hard way, but if you start grabbing at these chicken wings without the angel telling you that you can, you’ll start phasing into their memories and shit. And trust me, you don’t want to do that.”_

_He shudders, and John’s insatiable curiosity gets the better of him, a barrage of questions making their way out._

_“Really? Are you a ghost? Are angels just like- born or created? Did I just watch you get born? Are you MY guardian??”_

_Dave waves his hands in a “chill, chill” motion. He takes a deep breath to prepare himself to launch into his explanations, and begins,_

_“Well, yeah. I’m kinda technically a ghost. Let’s explain it like this- angels are definitely a form of ghost. I died. I REMEMBER dying. Crunch. It hurt, for like two seconds I guess. And then I was just floating in some fucking void and got the choice to go into nothingness, reincarnate or be a chicken who watches over somebody. I thought it might be nice to help some poor soul out and so I chose this. What you just saw was my physical body being created, yeah. But it looks exactly like how I used to look- before I died. I haven’t been dead very long- I died last night. Today’s my birthday,”_

_He declares with a morbid glee, and John sways on the spot, brushing hair out of his eyes._

_“…does…does this mean you’ll watch me sleep, or does it mean you’re my new best friend, or something else?”_

_“All of the above, darling,”_

_Dave says, deadpan. John tries to pull his hand back from Dave’s grip, and mistakenly shifted it into his wing. The angel goes paler, if possible, and tries to stop it-_

_“-David Elizabeth Strider!”_

_An abrupt shout caused him to flinch, and he turned reluctantly…_

_It was a blur after that, but it solidifies to show him as he vents to a winged boy with unruly hair, floating over his bed._

_“It’s not fair, Karkat! He doesn’t get it, not at all-”_

_It changes, to another image,_

_Free-falling actually feels fucking amazing, he managed to think before colliding with the ground. He knew it was an accident. He had been warned to be careful on the roof, he had been told about the dangerous stairs. Still he had made the mistake of playing around up there. One fatal slip and tumble down them was all it took, and then he found himself smeared on the ground four stories below-_

_John is yanked out of the memory of Dave’s death, the angel now holding both of his hands tightly, a look of concern in his eyes._

_“John!”_

_He calls urgently, and the other boy realizes that he must have been calling him for several seconds. He shakes his hands free of Dave’s grasp, staring at him with wide eyes._

_“Ho…Holy shit…”_

He jerks awake as the bell rings, and he drops his pencil. A smug voice teases,

“Too focused on me to keep your pencils together, dude?”

The angel leans forward, placing the pencil in front of his charge. To everyone else he looks like a lanky 6’4” young man in a red blazer, but John can see the wings folded behind his back. He snorts, and flicks Dave’s cheek,

“Shut up, you goofball. Sometimes I wonder who’s the bigger dork between us!”

He takes the pencil and jams it into his pocket.

After his initial meeting with Dave, the two grew to be quite inseparable. Perhaps it was due to John having few…well, no….friends, but he took advantage of the angel’s prominence in his life to bond with him.

It wasn’t that hard. Dave had been quite lonely prior to his own death, and ultimately he knew that his guardianship of John would only bring bonds that would eventually hurt them both, with the possibility of falling hanging over his head eternally. After all, he had only gotten his life back with annoying…conditions. 

And he was certain he would fail one of them and fall so hard he became a pancake again. The usual shit; do not sin, and all that.

But for Dave, the absolute killing condition is the simple command of

“An angel must not fall in love with a mortal.”

And god, he’d tried. He’d held his shit together from age thirteen to now, with John graduating. He had left it platonic. But over the past year, his post as guardian had become still harder…it almost hurt, not allowing himself to feel. 

He smiles wryly at the shorter boy, and teases him again, something nonsensical and playful, simple banter.

_Heaven knows how long I can keep this up, sending out a damn SOS right now, mayday motherfuckers I am going DOWN with this ship. _

“Well, are we heading home? You’ve got grad to prepare for,”

Dave reminds the raven-haired boy, who snorts and stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder, 

“Yeah, so do you. Don’t think you’re skipping grad just because you’re a literal chicken!”

Dave elbows him gently, smirking,

“Nah, this ain’t a chicken Egghead. And I’m not gonna leave you high and dry without someone to hold your hand as you walk down that aisle.”

“Dave, I am NOT gay,”

John quips back, as is customary for them. The blonde tilts his shades up; a gift from John on the spirit's fourteenth…or second, depending…birthday, so he could hide his unusual eyes from other humans without the use of glamour. 

He wears them almost constantly now, attached to the gift like nothing else. He got into drinking apple juice from John as well, and so many other small habits that rolled into his personality. 

John smiles brightly at the angel, who’s mind is drifting, and punches his shoulder gently,

“Dave, come on! We’ve gotta catch the bus or you’ll have to fly me home again.”

John grabs his sleeve and pulls, hard, causing Dave to lurch, following him with a restrained gasp.

“Dude, careful with the sleeves- you might just pull my arm off if you aren’t careful,”

He jests playfully, and John stuck out his tongue.

Being a guardian angel means you’re privy to things about your ward’s life that others might not be- in Dave’s case, the romantic element. John’s unfortunate love life has dogged him throughout high school; from simple rejections to longer standing relationships that turned out to be elaborate betrayals. If John could’ve simply fallen in love and had a stable relationship, Dave is sure that he would find holding his feelings back so much easier…

However, he’s watched, in anguish as John jumped from relationship to relationship, falling head over heels as easily as someone sliding down an icy sidewalk. It tugs at his heart, pulling him closer to John despite his resistance. 

_God it fucking hurts._

He follows John willingly, his smirk fading into the neutral expression he usually bears. These thoughts continue pounding in his mind as they board the bus, sitting next to each other, John leaning on the angel’s shoulder sleepily.

“I’m tired, Daaaavve,”

He whines playfully, and Dave, forcing himself not to react too strongly, pats his shoulder,

“I know dude. Don’t worry, we’ll be home soon though.”

While he masquerades as human at school, Dave prefers to assume his angelic form at home, concealing himself from John’s father. His wing curls around John as he closes his bright eyes, gradually drifting into sleep. Dave wraps his arm around him, keeping him from falling onto the ground or into the aisle in a visible way, since his wings aren’t visible to anybody else. It was easier when they were younger, to brush his stupid actions off as being a kid and nothing else.

But now they prompt a different reaction. It’s almost endearing in a way- he looks at John, and thinks affectionately,

_You dumb dork. Falling asleep on the bus…_

He waits until the bus stops, and then lightly shakes John,

“Hey, Eggdork, time to wake up. We’re home.”

His eyes flutter open, and he stretches, only to shriek as Dave picks him up and carries him and his things off the bus.

“Dave!! Dave put me down!!”

John demands, laughing and squirming. Dave holds him over a pile of slush,

“Are you sure about that?”

“nO!”

**~♡~**

John had never really wondered about Dave’s presence in his life until the day of his graduation. He never saw himself as…needing, a guardian. Perhaps it was due to the sheltered nature of his childhood, but he had never been in much danger, except perhaps from too many cakes.

It happens as the boys are walking over to the café to grab a bite to eat before heading back to John’s to pack up, since he’s already negotiated a place to stay, and intends to move out next month once he gets a job.

He takes a few steps into the road on the crosswalk, laughing and chatting to one of their friends, a girl named Jade, and sees- too late -truck that barrels around the corner.

He freezes, his eyes wide. John can’t feel his body, his hands numb and the rest of him disconnected. It’s as though his life begins to flash as he stands, absolutely paralyzed.

_I’m going to die._

For some reason, his limbs are leaden, his eyes widening as the breeze tugs at his raven locks. He’s almost ready for the pain when he feels a yanking sensation, and collides with something warm, solid. The truck barreled by unheeded. He takes in a deep breath, suddenly realizing that he hasn’t taken a breath the whole time he was in the road. A grand total of maybe ten seconds?

He becomes aware that he is shaking, trembling, and that the person who pulled him out of the road is gently stroking his hair, talking to him,

“John…John it’s okay, I’ve got you. I swear, you’re okay…look at me, bro, look at me…”

A hand tilts his face up, and he finds himself staring into scarlet eyes partially obscured by the familiar blonde locks of hair. Dave holds him close, stroking his hair, and after a second, wiping away the tears of shock that spring to cloud John’s blue eyes. 

“Shhh John…you’re okay…you’re okay….”

“Is he? This experience could prove to be quite psychologically scarring for a person of our age,”

Their friend Rose remarks, and Dave glares at her, his shades hanging on the collar of his shirt.

“Rose, darling,”

He drawls, rubbing John’s back as he hiccups and sobs softly, in shock,

“Now is not the time for your shitty psychobabble. Can’t you see that our friend is a LITTLE shaken? He only just missed getting hit by a fucking truck.”

Rose tilts her head and taps her chin,

“Interesting. You’re quite protective Dave, care to elaborate?”

“He’s my best friend. I don’t need to elaborate my feelings towards my best friend to you.”

She scoffs, while Jade looks scared, and asks,

“Is he okay? John, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

In John’s mind, these words blur and twist, fading into streaks of dragged out chalk pastels, their meanings escaping him. Eventually, Dave’s voice penetrates his shell of shock, gentle and calm as always,

“John? John, it’s been twenty minutes. Can you hear me?”

He feels his body shifting side to side, and realizes gradually that Dave is carrying him, walking quickly. He looks up, at his friend, and asks shakily,

“Twenty minutes?...”

“Oh thank fuck,”

Dave says in relief, and calls to the unseen girls,

“Jade, Rose- he’s coherent again!”

John hears a relieved sigh from Rose, and an exclamation from Jade,

“John’s okay?! Oh good! I was really worried that he wouldn’t be okay or something…”

He flushes, embarrassed that his friends are so worried over him. 

“I’m alright, guys, really! I guess…I just got a little freaked out, that’s all!”

He reassures them, smiling up at Dave. The angel nearly drops him right then without thinking, but asks,

“You can walk, right? Can I put you down?”

Suddenly, John feels his cheeks grow hot, and nods wordlessly, hoping his blush isn’t too dark. Dave gently sets him down, as though he’s a child, and smiles at him weakly.

It becomes scarily clear to John, the angel's emotions oddly transparent, that Dave was scared for him. Terrified, in fact. John feels like Dave’s heart might just have stopped when he saw that John was frozen in the road. This realization floods him with guilt, and he hugs Dave tightly, murmuring, 

“Thank you, Dave.”

His words are full of emotion, and momentarily, Dave doesn’t know how to react. After a second, he replies softly,

“No need to thank me, John. It’s what I do.”

He pulls back from the hug, and tugs John along,

“Come on, let’s go eat. You’re pale as a fucking ghost, Egbert.”

John snorts, and retorts gently,

“You’d know. Rose, Jade? I’m sorry for scaring you.”

Jade punches his arm, and says, her eyes dark,

“Scaring?? I was petrified! Don’t die on me now, you, you….DORK!”

Rose coughs softly, and delicately interjects,

“Yes, John, we were more than scared. However I believe Miss Harley is just expressing her fear and that her insults, as weak as they may be, shouldn’t be taken to heart.”

Jade punches her too. John, despite his aching arm, laughs softly, and apologizes again, as Dave leads the way to the café they had intended to visit. As they settle in the chairs, Dave across from John, John begins to see why he might need someone protecting him.

Of course, Dave always knew why he was here with John. This is the first time, though, that his purpose really came into play, and the adrenaline took a long time to fade, despite the situation having passed.

He watches John dig into the food he orders, and takes a heavy breath, sipping his juice.

_God, how will I make it to the end of his life without revealing a feeling? Hey, that’s a good rap. I should work with it some time._

He shakes off the inane additional thought, and stares into his apple juice. The golden liquid swirls about as he tilts the glass to and fro, teasingly allowing a drop of the juice to almost escape only to tilt it up abruptly. Eventually, when he does this, a drop flies out, landing on the table.

_Plip._

The sound of it hitting the table is soft, almost inaudible, and the realization it brings is the opposite. 

He is the cup. His feelings as they grow and overflow are the juice. Eventually, despite his best efforts, he will be revealed. Eventually, he’ll need to make a choice; allow himself to be reassigned, or even sent back to that…purgatory...or he could…

He pushes the thought from his mind forcefully, firmly vowing not to let it happen. 

Watching his friends smile and tease each other, a warmth spreads throughout his chest, a warmth he never felt as a human.

_Relax, John. I’ve got your back and I always will._


	2. The Wrong Words

**~Five years later, New York City~**

“Dave!”  
John exclaims excitedly, flagging a piece of paper at the blonde as he jolts, pushing his shades up to more clearly see the sheet.

“Look, look! I got the job!”  
“Hey, good job dude!”  
Dave praises, smiling at John warmly. John giggles softly, beaming at the other’s reaction. He’s been trying hard to get a job, and now he has one!

“I start Monday,”  
He informs Dave as he places his shoes in the entry of their apartment. 

“Typical nine to five shift. It’s not that hard to handle, honestly, since I’m used to eight hour shifts and all. I just hope the place will be okay…”  
He knows full well that Dave never stays at home, and even if he did, the angel is hardly a housekeeper. More than likely the whole place would be in flames by the end of the day. The angel too, knows that it wouldn’t be remotely advisable for him to stay home.

After a little congratulations, chatting about the job in question, Dave plucks up the nerve needed, and softly says,

“Hey John?”  
He takes a deep breath, finding it in him to ask this nagging question of the mortal. John tilts his head, and asks,

“Yeah? What’s up, Dave?”  
“…what would you do if something happened to me? Would…you be alright on your own?”  
John considers this for a moment or two, before replying quietly,

“I’d miss you dearly, Dave, but I think…I think I could manage to continue. Well…I’d do my best at least. Maybe ask Jade if she’d like to move in and keep me company through my grief….”  
Dave sucks in a sharp breath, and asks,

“Grief? Like, serious, 100% grief?”  
John looks at him like he’s grown a second head, and asks incredulously, 

“Dude, are you crazy? You’re my best friend! We’ve known each other since we were thirteen, Dave, of course I’d be grieving if something happened to remove you from my life!”  
Dave leans back, and accidentally bumps his head on the shelf. He winces, replying to the other’s words, 

“…yeah, but this wouldn’t really kill me. I’d…just have to be on the move until I found something.”  
He fiddles with his phone, thinking guiltily about the document secreted away on it, about an angel becoming mortal.  
Yes, that’s his plan, simple but with intention- and yet so horribly complicated. Cut off his wings somehow, so he can be a mortal alongside John, so his love would be allowed.

He’s discarded the idea so many times, due to not even knowing if John feels the same for him…if he doesn’t, it would be a meaningless sacrifice. Absently, he notes that the other’s hair is damp, and suddenly becomes aware of the drizzling rain outside, of John’s slight shivers in his wet clothes.  
John jumps as Dave wraps his blazer over his shoulders and hugs him close, pressing John’s face against his warm chest.

“Dave?-”  
“You’re soaked. You need to warm up, John. Don’t catch a cold…”  
John tilts his face up from Dave’s shirt, looking at the blonde from under his dark curtain of lashes, deep blue eyes drawing in the other like a riptide in the ocean. A breath catches in Dave’s throat as he drew John still closer to him, leaning down just a little.  
John’s breath hitches slightly, and his eyes widen,

“…Dave?...”  
He asks softly, his pale cheeks flushing,

“What…are you doing?”  
_As if I don’t know what he’s doing…_  
The young man’s thoughts bounce inside his skull, battering around as he argues with himself.  
_Is he going to kiss me? Does he like me that way? Do I like him like that? Am I…no, I’m straight aren’t I?_

John tears his memory apart, searching for an instance that could even remotely prove him as homosexual…but all he can see are failed relationships, disastrous attempts at having a girlfriend. Is that a sign?...  
He can’t pull away, almost paralyzed as he stares through the shades, into the scarlet eyes of his best friend, shadowed by the blonde curtain of delicate lashes over them. 

In the end, Dave does it for him, releasing him and drawing him over to their room,

“You should change into dry clothes, bro,”  
He says softly, and John feels a pang of disappointment in his chest. He stops, and tugs against the other’s grip.

“Dave, what _was_ that?”  
He demands, drawing himself up to his full height of five feet, two inches. Dave glances back over his shoulder and then turns with a soft sigh, leaning in to whisper to John.

_“John.”_

That one word, whispered so gently and with such seriousness, turns John’s knees to jelly, and he finds himself wobbling as he’s caught and held close again.

“I can’t have feelings for you, unless I want to fall. And falling means I’ll be hunted down and well, erased.”  
This confession, as bleak as it is, causes John’s heart to skip a beat. He doesn’t quite know why; is it because Dave is whispering it in his ear? Is it because the other is holding him so tightly and yet so gently? Is it the warmth of his body pressed against John’s own shivering one? Or is it the combination of his best friend almost admitting to having a crush on him and simultaneously directly telling him he could die for having one?

“Dave…what…are you saying?”  
He asks fearfully, and Dave shakes his head, pulling back and brushing John’s damp hair out of his face.

“John, just…trust me,”  
He implores softly, and John bites his lip softly. Dave knows that look; his heart skips and he shakes his head again, slowly, and begins to warn,

“John, I ca-”

“Dave, just!- Just shut up if you’re going to be like that!”  
John bursts out, glaring at him. Dave feels himself recoil internally from his friend’s anger, or frustration, and he listens silently as he continues,

“You tell me you could be erased, you ask me if I’ll be okay if you die, and then you, you- you refuse to explain? When did you become a cryptic asshat?”  
Dave turns to open the door, only to feel as he’s yanked into a tight embrace. John whispers against his back,

“Don’t leave me hanging like this, Dave. I need to know what’s going on.”  
Something breaks, inside Dave; it’s like a fragile snapping in his chest as he replies, first gently and quietly, then with intent and force.

“John, I just can’t say certain things to you or they’ll trigger the hunters, I can’t do things, I can’t explain things- well, that’s a lie. I can explain one thing. But if I do, I’ll have to be careful.”  
He tugs John after him, into his room, and leads him to the closet, grabbing clothes and tossing them onto John’s bed.

“Go on. Ask me one thing you really want to know about this situation.”

“…what’s endangering you? Why do you look at me like I’m going to stab you?”  
His fragile, innocent blue eyes infuriate Dave. _Does he never take a hint?_  
Slowly, he tugs him towards to closet, stating,

“You need a sweater. Stay warm.”  
Then, gently, he pushes John against the wall, somehow to John’s surprise. He trails his hand through John’s hair, sliding his shades off so he can properly meet eyes with the mortal, and leans down slowly, gazing into his eyes with an unspoken fire burning in his own scarlet depths…and before John really understands, Dave is kissing him in the dim light of the closet.

John’s eyes widen, and he feels something give way in his mind- it’s as though up till this point, he’s been resisting the idea that Dave could possibly be in love with him, or even just attracted to him, but the angel's kiss doesn’t lie. How could it?  
It’s tender, but yet with a forceful hint, like gentle words intended to convey a cruel meaning. As John gives in, reciprocating gently and tightening his fingers in the other’s shirt, the meaning sinks in with Dave’s shifting body and nervousness. 

_He…he loves me. If it’s found out that he loves me, he’ll fall or be erased, right? _  
This realization slams him in the chest like a semi truck, and he draws in a gasp of air as Dave pulls back, his eyes gentle now.

“You’re what’s endangering me, John. It’s always been you.”  
_Dave, you…you do, don’t you? Oh, god…I’m sorry for being so oblivious…_  
He slides his hand down to the bottom of John’s damp shirt, tugging at the hem slightly,

“I look at you like that because I’m fuckin terrified. I don’t know when I’ll slip up and do something dumb. I don’t know when I’ll stop being able to hold back. And it’s only gonna get harder the more you make that face.”  
John tries to rearrange his expression, which had been a dazed look of astonishment coupled with blush from being so abruptly kissed, only for Dave to flick his cheek and state,

“Nah, that bit was kidding. Now keep your mouth shut and get dressed. I’ve been looking into this.”  
With that he grins deviously and somehow yanks John’s shirt right off him, leaving the other without the garment. He shrieks as the cold air hits him and dives for the clothes on the bed, pulling the shirt there on and glaring at Dave,

“David Elizabeth, you little shit!”

“Get your shirt on, Egbert,”  
He teases, lifting off the ground slightly and shifting into his ethereal form,

“Or you might turn into a wickedly chilled little popsicle.”  
John couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the blonde, sticking out his tongue.  
Dave, on the other hand, can’t relax. He’s freaked out, wondering if his actions will be detected.  
_I shouldn’t have done that, god, now things will be weird between us and I might even get killed for it, shit!_   
_Take a deep breath Strider, stay cool. Look at yourself, you’re good. You kissed him in a closet so that’s hard to see and you never said those words, right?_  
He realizes he said it a lot when they were younger.

_“Love you, Eggdork.”_   
_“Awww, love ya too, Jo-”_   
_“Don’t reject my love like this, Egghead!!”_   
_“I love it when you squeak like that.”_

What changed? When did he become painfully aware that his words could shatter their small bubble of serenity? He spends a distracted minute pondering this, the overlaying, invisible, spiritual world swirling around him and teasing his wings gently. John, who had left to change in the bathroom, glances at him, now dressed in dry clothes. 

“…Dave?”  
The angel starts, and became fully visible, answering,

“Yeah?”

“…what will happen if you fall?”  
Dave stares into the distance, and then replies slowly,

“…I suppose it wouldn’t be much different from now, but….I’d be an outcast, marked for death…unless I found some way to void that, but dozens have tried. It’s not worth the risk.”  
John looks away, and nods, his throat locking up and his words held back.  
_It really isn’t worth it to lose him. Better to hold my tongue._

Dave’s kiss had spurred on something John had vaguely felt stirring within him for a while now; a soft, nervous sensation, a worry. A fluttering heartbeat that seems to skip in John’s chest; hearing those soft words in the angel's slight accent, a whisper of danger, only caused it to skip again, crashing inside his chest like a caged butterfly slamming against the walls of a jar, almost.  
John tries to say something, only for the wrong words to come out.

“Yeah, it’s definitely not worth it; kinda a useless effort.”  
He only has to take a look at Dave’s ever so slightly wounded expression to know he took it wrong.

“Wait, wait! I didn’t mean it like-”

“No, you’re right,”  
He says coolly, adjusting his shades.

“It IS useless. After all, I’ll only ever be your guardian- I’ve used up my chance at life. Sorry John, forget anything happened.”  
He vanishes, and John winces, knowing that when he gets like this…well, it’ll resolve itself.  
_He won’t stay mad, will he? Surely not…I totally fucked that one though, not gonna lie._

Dave watches John silently, submerged into the ethereal realm so as to stay out of sight.  
He feels something wet, and his shades begin fogging up slightly- or is that just his eyes? For a moment he wonders what’s up, before it becomes clear- he’s crying.  
_Damn, it’s been a while since I’ve done this. Like, what...since that one time when I got hurt for the first time since dying? That was years ago. How have I just…not cried?_

  
He allows the tears to run down his cheeks, wiping off his shades only to find it was indeed his eyes fogging up and not the lenses like he had thought.   
It becomes unnerving to him after a minute, distracted from John by the tears running down his cheeks, as he frantically wipes them away, muttering obscenities.  
_I shouldn’t be crying. It’s not like I expected anything really, he just asked a question and in return I fucking kissed him. God, am I ever the stupidest angel, person, dude alive or what?_

A small voice, whispering unheard in his soul, insists quietly, that John liked it.  
Why else would he have looked at Dave with those eyes, like he wanted more?

But he doesn’t listen to it.


	3. Egbertian Inquisition

In fact, several days pass before he says anything at all. He distances himself, hoping behaving like a _proper angel_ will chase away these thoughts and feelings, cure him, if you would, of his infatuation…

  
Of course, it doesn’t work like that.  
John grows worried, fidgeting, alone in his house. He wonders fearfully if Dave has abandoned him because of his words, if he really was that sensitive…  
_Who am I kidding? Of course he is! Dave is one of the most sensitive people I know. Even if he denies it, swears up and down the block that he's an island, he's knocked over by feathers._  
The dark-haired boy curls up in his bed, closing his eyes tightly as he clenches his arms around the pillow and thinks to himself in a despondent tone,  
_I chased him off. That’s it, isn’t it? I hurt him and now he’s decided to hurt me just as much._

  
He’s tired from work, exhausted, and if it weren’t for thoughts of the angel chasing each other around in his mind like one-winged birds, he would’ve long since passed out.  
But instead he lays awake, staring at the wall over the mound of his pillow, and bites back tears. It’s this sight that finally breaks Dave’s resolve, and he reluctantly fades into the material realm behind John, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“…John.”  
He says simply, softly and without emotion.  
“I’m sorry.”

  
Dave knew all along that he had reacted wrongly. In the moment, it was all he could think of, however…well….afterwards he knew that it wasn’t even close to the real meaning of the words. Why would John, _his John_, not the snarky shell he puts up to protect himself, say something of that sort to him? It truly makes no sense now, but in that split second.  
_“Yeah, it’s really not worth it.”_  
_What’s not worth it? The effort? The feelings? Caring? Dave’s very presence?_  
….he wasn’t quite on top of his emotions. Panic attacks don’t happen often anymore, but when he has one, it can have disastrous results. Dave shivers in recollection of his own tone, waiting…

  
John feels the hand, and a mixture of emotions swamp him as Dave spoke.  
_Relief. He isn’t gone after all, he forgives me for the bad phrasing._  
_Dismay- he’s back, what do I do now??_  
_Anger; why does he think he can put me through that and then just apologize to make it better?!_  
He replies with the last emotion first,  
“…for what, being a douchebag? Flapping off and leaving me to wonder if I’ve chased you off forever??”

  
Dave flinches at the other’s words, starting to speak only to be cut off,  
“I didn’t mean it that way! You didn’t stick around for a reply, and then you made a mess.”  
“John, I-”  
“And then you have the NERVE,”  
He sits up, looking Dave directly in the eyes,  
“To think it’ll be patched up with “John, I’m sorry"?!”  
“I…jeez man, when you phrase it that way I sound like a real asshole…”

  
Dave winces as the other moves, but then relaxes in confusion when John hugs him tightly, listening closely to the other’s words,  
“…well if you think that, you’re right.”  
Dave relaxes even further, sighing, only to cough as John nearly crushes his ribs,   
“But you did make me super upset and that’s not so forgivable.”

  
Dave swallows, and apologizes again,  
“John, I really am sorry. I did overreact, and I did pull a dick move by being all fucky and silent. Can you please forgive me?”  
John holds tightly, until the angel wheezes for breath, begging,  
“J-John let g-guuuuuh-”  
Satisfied, John releases him.  
“….I think I’ll forgive you once you prove yourself again. Earn my trust again.”  
“Dude we- we’ve known each other for what, twelve years? And you don’t trust me now?”  
John shrugs, and replies,  
“I mean like, not all trust, just trust emotionally. You really hurt my feelings, now you gotta make up for it. Make sense?”  
Dave nods reluctantly, wondering what the mortal is going to come up with to “prove” Dave’s trustworthiness. He does wince slightly, recalling past trials John had come up with- a lot of truly disastrous outcomes had been had, for certain.

  
He sighs, conceding,  
“It’s within your rights, I guess. After all…if I hurt you, I’m not much better than the people I’m supposed to be protecting you from, am I?”  
John crosses his arms, and nods sagely in response, and Dave shifts, wondering if their usual banter is appropriate in this situation. The other young man holds up a finger, leaning forwards, looking up under the angel's shades with a serious look,  
“Tell me what you’ve been planning.” Dave feels his blood turn to ice throughout his body, and he swallows heavily, stuttering out a reluctant,   
“Is- Is this really what you?- want?” John’s nod of confirmation shoots through him like a bullet, and he swallows again, hearing the other’s heartbeat in the silence that follows.

  
Patient blue eyes stare him down, azure spotlights he’s trapped in, and minutes tick by without another word. John’s hand creeps towards Dave’s shirt collar, and eventually he pulls him in close, hugging him properly, whispering in an aggressive tone,  
“David, you better cough it up soon or I swear, I’ll pluck you.”  
Despite the gravity of John’s words, a broken laugh bubbles up in Dave’s chest, and he whispers back,  
“You don’t get it John, it’s- it’s one of those forbidden things.”

His tone sombers as he pulls back, and as he does so, John leans in dangerously close- _inches, there’s inches between our faces_\- and retorts in a soft voice,  
“You’re being an asshat now- saying that and then trying to get out of this. Didn’t you think I’d be _a little worried_ with all these implications if you possibly redying? You’re explaining even if you have to write me a novel with it in code throughout the pages.” Dave perks up, and then throws himself off the bed, rummaging frantically through his things, his few material belongings. John yelps as he’s pushed back, and he realizes, watching the blonde as he searches, that he’s a lot stronger than John realized.

  
It causes a cold feeling in his stomach, to realize that there are still things that he doesn’t know, things that should be obvious, about Dave. It’s as if it drives home that Dave is capable of keeping information from him. He can’t quite understand why or what the feeling is, but something whispers in him that if something like strength could be dampened for him, perhaps lies have been told for him, secrets kept from him, and the something becomes uglier, a brittle voice in John’s core.

  
_There should be no secrets between us at this point. He is both my best friend and my guardian angel. If he hides one thing, he’ll hide another. What hasn’t he told me?_  
He feels sick, not understanding why these thoughts are coming to him now of all times, in a time where he should trust Dave more than any other.  
The angel beams, holding up a notebook, and says excitedly,  
“Remember the cipher?” John pauses, and then his eyes widen as he nods. A small smile spreads across his face, realizing he’s won.  
When they were younger, they had created a cipher they used so Dave could talk about his reincarnation and other things that might have gotten him in trouble.

  
_“Dave? Did you…have an angel?”_   
_Dave lifted his head to look at John curiously, wondering what brought this question about. He shrugged, and mumbled, scribbling out another unintelligible answer to a math question, _   
_“I shouldn’t really talk about it. Angel boundaries, y’know?” John made a grab for Dave’s feathers, only to feel his wrist caught firmly in the other boy’s grip. “Don’t be a dick man, grabbing the wings for answers is Not Cool.”_   
_John pouted, but then brightened, _   
_“Wait! The way you answered my question kinda sounds like you did have an-”_   
_“I can’t talk about it,” he repeated in dismay, knowing this would start an Egbert inquisition. John could be honestly ruthless in extracting information. John’s eyes flicked from Dave’s face to his pencil, and he asked,_   
_“What about writing?”_   
_That sealed the series of events in place, and within a day, Dave sat, scrawling out coded text, before finally handing over the paper to John._   
_“Yeah, I had one. His name was Karkat Vantas- he was about our age. He never told me how he died, he was pretty crabby. He’d been with me since I was…eight? Nine? And had tried to keep me away from the roof where I was, of course, destined to die, ever since the first day. Like you and me, I saw him appear and from then on he was stuck with me. The last time I saw him was a few days before I died- he hugged me and said- I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, something about it was so solemn and mature for a boy his apparent age- “Dave, I’ll be back when it counts. You better take care of yourself or I’ll have to pinch you.” I didn’t see him again after that, but now I think he might have fallen.”_   
_John’s expression sank, and he mumbled,_   
_“…sorry.” Dave nonchalantly shrugged,_   
_“It’s not like I grieved, I just figured he was tucking himself away into angelspace until I needed a giant chicken to save my ass or something. But I guess now I miss him a little, realizing what must have become of him.”_

John’s eyes sparkle, and Dave considers how best to phrase this. He places the pen to paper, and begins to scribble out the message. After a few tries, crumpled papers falling around him, he wordlessly hands John the paper.  
Eagerly, the mortal begins to read, innocently. Dave’s heart twists, anticipating John’s sinking expression, his horror- these things he’s so sure John will express soon.

  
“I’ve been looking into how I can come back. Cut off my wings I guess, fall or become mortal or something, so…I can like…be with you. But very few manage that, and they’re shunned and hunted. And I don’t even know how you feel about me, so it’s honestly kinda pointless, you know?”

John’s gaze lingers on the final word, and his stomach feels heavy, but he expresses none of the things Dave feared.  
Instead he lifts his eyes from the page, to Dave, and he asks quietly,  
“Is it possible, though?” Dave shrugs, replying,  
“…yeah but not easily…” _Or for long. Angels aren’t allowed to meddle with mortals, but they would certainly kill me if they caught wind of this._

  
John’s jaw tightens, and he says firmly,  
“I’m helping.”  
Dave’s heart may as well have dropped through the floor and down to the first floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the shorter chapter! I'm trying to get my writer's...apathy towards existence, out of the way and be productive during this bizarre time.


End file.
